


Full Bloom

by Anonymous



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Language of Flowers, M/M, ateez fic fest, florist!wooyoung, rated for language, tattoo artist!san, very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 11:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20357986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Tattoo artist San's search for inspiration leads him to the flower shop across the street.But is is the source material, or the pretty florist, that keeps him coming back?





	Full Bloom

_Tap. Tap tap. Tap t-t-tap._

_Thwack!_

San blinked a few times, pulled from his absent-minded tapping of a pencil against the counter. He was sure he was going to have a red mark on his forehead from where the eraser had hit him. He looked up to see his scarlet-haired coworker glaring at him.

“Fucking finally, man.” Hongjoong grumbled. “You were driving me insane.” He turned his attention back to wiping down the display case full of jewelry as San murmured an apology. Hongjoong either didn’t hear it or ignored it, bobbing his head instead to the punk rock playing from the speakers.

San looked back down at the paper in front of him. The past hour and a half had been set aside for the artist to create something new for the tattoo studio’s walls, and Eden, the owner of the shop, had left the creative direction up to San. He had been so grateful at the time, assuring his boss that he wouldn’t let him down. San had only been working at the shop a little over half a year, but it already felt like home.

San set his pencil on the counter, freeing both hands to card through his hair. He closed his eyes and counted to five before opening them again. The paper was still blank. He let out a breath loudly, allowing his lips to flap with the exhale.

Two sets of eyes looked up at him from an artist’s station. “Still nothing?” The taller of the two asked. He peered at San over the thick rim of his glasses perched low on a hawk-like nose. He used the heel of a gloved hand to push the glasses up as he focused back on the body in front of him. “Hanging in there?” He asked the client. She nodded, snapping her gum as she turned her attention back to her phone.

“It’s hopeless, Seonghwa!” San cried, flopping over the counter. “You and Eden came up with the coolest designs, and I’ve got nothing. I do realism, not traditionalism! I need references!” He knew Seonghwa was barely listening to his excuses at this point, and it was probably for the best. After all, he was permanently placing art in someone’s skin at the moment. San was just being whiny, and he knew it.

Hongjoong piped in from across the room. “Why not draw your dog? You love that thing more than life itself.”

San thought about it. Shiber was a pretty good subject, and he did have hundreds of pictures of his beloved pet on his phone. He supposed this wasn’t a bad place to start. He grinned and blew a kiss across the room. Hongjoong grunted and turned away, but not before San caught a glimmer of a smile on his face.

Nearly an hour later, he had a rough outline of a regal-looking shiba inu sketched on the page. He was proud of his work, but couldn’t help but to feel that it was missing something. _Tap. T-t-t-tap. Tap._

“I swear to the sweet baby Jesus, I will end you!” Seonghwa announced across the shop. San grimaced, quickly ceasing the tapping. Making the tiny piercer angry was one thing, but the senior tattooist was not someone that San was willing to cross.

“Needs more flowers.” San looked up quickly, nearly bumping heads with the shop’s apprentice. Yeosang had a habit of sneaking in unnoticed, though at least he announced when he was leaving. Leaving the bags of takeout that he was carrying on the counter, he continued. “Give it a frame or something. Make him fancy. Bitches love fancy.”

San nodded slowly as Yeosang walked to the back of the shop. That wasn’t an entirely bad idea. There was just one glaring problem with it. He couldn’t draw flowers to save his life. Groaning, he stood up and paced to the large picture window and back. He was about to resign himself to geometric edges when he did a double-take. “Guys. How long has there been a florist across the street?”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes at San’s refection in the mirror he was using to mark where a stud should go in his own nose. “Only always.”

San checked the clock hung on the brick wall, making a few mental calculations. “Do you guys mind if I take my break now? I need to do some research.” He wasn’t waiting for an answer. He had already gathered his sketchbook and thrown his pencils back into their case. He took an eggroll from one of the bags and stuffed it into his mouth.

Seonghwa took pity on him, although it may have been a desire for silence. “Go ahead, there’s enough people here. We’ll call you if we need you, and we’ll save you some food for when you get back.” San could have kissed him. Instead, he tucked his supplies under his arm and booked it out the door, a cheery ding signaling his exit.

Aurora Florist was nestled in-between two cafes across from the Treasure Map tattoo shop, but San had never noticed it before. The windows were lined with planters of brightly colored flowers, and once inside, San was nearly bowled over by the fragrance of more flowers than he had ever seen before. The shop was bright, open, and cheery, with white walls and silver accents. It was the exact opposite of the tattoo parlor, which, although brightly lit, had red brick walls, black tables and counters, and iron fixtures. As the door shut behind him, a voice called out from the back. “I’ll be right up!” It sounded like bells.

“Oh, take your time!” San replied. He was in awe, and wanted to be able to soak this in alone. He didn’t need someone else to see him slack-jawed, spinning slowly around. In all honesty, he hadn’t realized that there were this many different types of flowers out there. There were single blooms and clusters, small and large, in every color he could imagine. He didn’t know where to start.

“Thanks for your patience, sorry for the wait, it’s just me today.” San jumped slightly as the voice sounded again, this time from much closer behind him. He turned around quickly, and his jaw snapped shut audibly. If his voice was like music to the ears, the florist’s face was like fine art, and San was woefully unprepared. The florist had full, plush lips under a strong nose, and pale lavender hair brushed his eyebrows on each side from a center part. He wiped his hands on a green apron as he looked expectantly at San.

The artist cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, it’s, um, it’s no worries.” God, he sounded like an idiot. He probably looked like an idiot, too. His black and red hair was falling into his eyes, and he had chosen today to wear a sleeveless tee. It had originally had sleeves, but his friend Jongho had decided that it looked better this way. It did not. The only upside was that it showed all of the mountain inked on his right bicep, stretching from his shoulder nearly to his elbow in a geometric greyscale. It was his pride and joy. Eden had designed and inked it, and it was then that San had decided that his dream was to work for him.

He shifted to his other foot and attempted to piece his thoughts together. Taking a deep breath, he decided to just let them out. “So, I work across the street, and I’ve been trying to draw, but I need some inspiration, and I just noticed your shop, and I was hoping that I could do some study sketches, because it’s way better to have the real thing than a picture on the internet…” He trailed of when he realized that the florist was laughing silently. “I’ll buy some flowers, if that’s the problem.”

“What’s your favorite flower?” The florist asked.

San was startled for a moment, but recovered quickly to answer. “Sunflowers.”

He nodded and held up a single finger, retreating to the back room of the shop again. He emerged a moment later, holding a lone golden bloom out to the artist. “Three dollars. Stay as long as you need.”

Money quickly exchanged hands, and the florist held a stool out to San. “Make yourself comfortable. I have some work to finish, but if you need anything, my name is Wooyoung.”

San nodded slowly before realizing that he was still being stared at. “Oh, uh yeah, I’m San.” Wooyoung cracked a smile that made his eyes crinkle at the edges, and San had to look away. By the time he left, he had filled a second page with detailed drawings of every part of the sunflower in front of him.

* * *

The shop was full of the whirr of tattoo machines as San sat with his first consultation of the day. He chewed the end of his pencil as she described the piece that she was hoping to have done. This was a first for him. Although he was well-versed in pet portraiture, he had never been asked to tattoo a parrot before. He supposed it made sense. When a pet lived a human-length lifespan, they became a major part of your life. And what would complete a portrait of a hyacinth macaw better than actual hyacinths? San groaned internally. More flowers. He could do this. He and the client set up a date for the actual work to begin, and San began sketching.

“What the fuck!” San yelled as he watched his open tabs begin to disappear. Seonghwa glared at him and continued to close tabs.

“You haven’t touched the computer in twenty minutes, and you have thirty tabs of fucking flowers. I’m calling an intervention. The appointment is tomorrow. Get your shit together.”

San huffed. “I just need better source material.” His eyes flicked to the shop across the street, and if he squinted, he could see a flash of purple hair through the window. He nodded resolutely. Live models. That would work so much better than static pictures.

Chimes rang through the shop as San pushed the door open.

“Ah! Sanflower!”

San stopped short. He hadn’t expected to be remembered, and especially not with a nickname. He could feel heat at the back of his neck, but did his best to ignore it. Instead he focused on the bouquet on the counter. He noticed that it prominently featured sunflowers, and he was sure that last week the display had been pink, not yellow.

Wooyoung leaned over the counter to meet his eyes. “What can I do for you today?”

San snapped his eyes up, not failing to notice the laughter in the other’s face. “I need another reference.” The florist nodded. “Hyacinths. I can’t get them right.”

“They’re tricky. Lots of small flowers, each one important to the whole. Like interactions.” He deftly picked a periwinkle stem from its holder and presented it to the artist. “Did you know that they represent sincerity? Just do your best.” He winked as he turned away. “I won’t even charge you this time.”

“Are – are you sure?”

“I said it, didn’t I? Just, make sure you get your drawing right before you leave.” He could do that.

Before long, San had a book full of flower sketches, and an ever-growing floral portfolio. The tattoo shop smelled of a mixture of cleaner and the blooms that he kept bringing back with him. Everyone in the shop called Wooyoung San’s flower boy, which San vehemently denied. “He’s not my anything!” But he would be lying to himself if he also denied the shiver that ran through his spine at the idea that he _could _be.

* * *

San tried to live his life humbly, but he would admit that he was a talented artist. He knew he was skilled with a tattoo machine as well. His books were packed solid for the next few weeks, no small thanks to his macaw portrait. It had exploded online, propelling him to mild fame. He was beginning to enjoy the amount of floral pieces that he was getting.

San was closing the shop with Yeosang when the bell chimed. From the back room, he could hear voices in conversation, but knew that the apprentice would call for help if he needed it. By the time he returned to the front, the customer had left. “What was that about? Did you scare them off?”

“Ha ha.” The pink-haired man deadpanned. “Maybe I’ll switch your new appointment to Eden instead.”

“I’m not worried. Eden has to hand-approve all clients.” Yeosang made a noise suspiciously similar to a harrumph.

“_Anyways._ It’s another floral, bicep, free reign on design, but has to have these flowers.” Yeosang slid him a scrawled list. “I booked it for a week out. May the odds be in your favor. Maybe go ask your little flower prince for some help.” He smirked. San had the urge to throw the rag that he had been using to wipe the counter into his face.

Wooyoung grinned brightly as San entered the shop. “What are we drawing today?”

“I can’t stay long, I’m supposed to be at the front desk, but I need a bouquet. These.” He slid the list of flowers to the man across the counter.

Wooyoung chewed his lip, his smile slipping as he read through the requirements. “Yeah, yeah, I have all these. Gimme like, an hour? I can bring it to you.”

San smiled, his dimples breaking the planes of his cheeks. “You’re the best. Charge the shop’s tab.”

True to his word, Wooyoung delivered an eclectic bouquet of flowers to the shop across the street in just under an hour. Hongjoong cooed from the back of the shop as the vase exchanged hands, but the only reaction he got was a middle finger from San.

Wooyoung’s gaze traveled from the brightly-colored grouping to San’s face. “This was my first time putting these together. Interesting arrangement. Remind me to tell you what it means sometime.”

San grinned back. “You know, I’ve been doing some research myself into flower language. You might be pretty proud at how much I know by now.” He toyed with a leaf hanging over the edge of the vase. “It helps a lot when someone is trying to figure out a tattoo.”

“I’ll bet it does! Maybe you can tell _me_ what this means. But right now I have to get back. I left the shop alone.” He grimaced, glancing out the window and across the street. “See you later!” San waved as he left, ignoring the good-natured ribbing he was receiving from the other artists. They were all lucky he was such a nice guy and wasn’t going to try to get back at them.

San got to work straight away sketching out his mystery client’s tattoo. It started as light doodling in between appointments that first day, but soon became almost an obsession. He was fixated on all the small details, needing it to be perfect. It wasn’t often that he took work home with him, but this piece traveled with him everywhere. By the day of the appointment, he was finally satisfied, and though the reference bouquet was past its prime, he could easily visualize each flower from all angles.

* * *

_Tap. Tap tap. Tap t-t-tap._

_Thwack!_

Hongjoong pulled San from his absent-minded tapping with a flick of the rag he was using to wipe down the counter. “Can we not fucking start this again?” San grinned sheepishly, setting his pencil down.

The appointment was drawing closer and closer, and he was eagerly waiting to find out who was going to possess the latest piece of his soul. He glanced out the window to see Wooyoung locking the door to his shop.

“Sang, you’re really not going to tell me?”

Yeosang snorted from where he was stocking Eden’s station with ink bottles. “How would that be any fun for me?”

“I’ll let you tattoo me.”

Yeosang looked up from the bottles of Red Cherry and Cherry Bomb ink in his hands and quirked his head at the artist. “Seriously?”

San scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, like, a small one. In a not-so-visible area. I guess.”

Yeosang blew a raspberry. “Forget it.” He lined the bottles up next to Dragon Red. San sighed in relief. He was a little too picky about the art that he put on his body to let Yeosang experiment with him yet.

He turned around at the sound of the bells over the door. A slow grin spread over his face as Wooyoung stepped into the shop, carrying a bouquet identical to the one requested for the tattoo. Dimples on full display, San greeted his client. “You know, people usually pay in money.”

Wooyoung blushed. “So you figured it out, huh?”

San shrugged. “Those flowers were _real _specific. It had to be someone who knew their way around a flower shop. I’m smarter than everyone gives me credit for.” Seonghwa snorted from his station, earning a dirty look. “Do we still need to get consent forms signed?”

“Nope, your shop imp had me fill everything out when I made the appointment.” Yeosang shot them a middle finger, but was ignored by everyone.

“Alright then! Let’s go!” San grabbed for the fresh bouquet, leading Wooyoung to have a seat at the counter. “Let me show you what I drew up.”

“Wow. And it’ll look just as real on my skin?”

San nodded. “You have nice skin. As long as you practice good aftercare, it’ll be amazing.”

They moved from the counter to San’s work station, where San gently transferred the outline stencil to the florist’s bicep, the positioning very similar to his own tattoo. Wooyoung shivered as he smoothed the transfer paper over his skin, likely from the breeze on his alcohol-wet skin.

After confirming the location, San began to prepare the ink. He pulled color after color from his lineup, squirting each one into its own little tiny cup. His trademark grin slipped off his face as he readied the tattoo machine next, attaching a sterile needle to the head. He wore black latex gloves, and almost seemed to have transformed into a different person.

“Ready?” He finally asked Wooyoung. He got a nod in response. “Have you eaten recently?” Another nod. “Taken any painkillers?” A shake of the head. “Sang, can you grab some ibuprofen and a bottle of water for me?” Wooyoung quickly swallowed the offered medicine. “I’m gonna start now, let me know if you need a break.”

San switched on the tattoo machine, a steady buzz hanging in the air. After filling the reservoir of the machine, he began to ink the outline, one hand flat on Wooyoung’s arm to hold the skin in place, while the other glided smoothly, deceptively so, as the machine rapidly injected ink into his flesh.

The florist let out a slow breath. “That’s not as bad as I was anticipating. I think I was building it up in my head all week.” He gave a shaky laugh.

San grinned. “Oh, it gets worse. It’s mostly just annoying, though. Like I said, let me know if it’s too much to handle.”

“Talking helps.” Wooyoung grimaced as San outlined a particularly detailed area. “Which flower is that?”

“This one is the chrysanthemum. I figured I’d get it out of the way first. Sorry.” He outlined the intricate petals of the fall flower as he spoke. They fell into an easy conversation and it seemed like no time at all before the outline of all six flower types was completed.

“Ready for the color?” San grinned changed the head of the tattoo machine.

“More than anything. If you’ve been doing your homework, you know that the color of the flower changes the meaning.” Wooyoung answered. “Speaking of which, you said you were going to tell me the meaning of the flowers in this tattoo?”

San turned his head away, pretending to be examining his cups of ink. “That was before I knew it was _yours._” He took up the first color and turned back to begin shading.

“I want to know what you think.” Wooyoung said softly.

San stayed quiet for several minutes. “I don’t want to be wrong.” He finally whispered.

“Hey.” Wooyoung caught his attention, looking him in the eyes. “I don’t think you are.”

“At the end. I’ll tell you when I’m done.” San bargained. “If I’m wrong, I won’t be able to finish it.”

Wooyoung conceded, allowing San to finish bringing his work to life on his skin. As soon as he finished wiping the excess ink off and applying the layer of saniderm, he turned back to the artist. “There’s no running from it now. What do you think it means?”

San sighed, leaning back on his stool. “Alright, I guess it’s time.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “As a whole, it’s a tattoo about love, told through flowers. At first, I just thought it was a generic love tattoo, but when I figured out whose it was, I was able to find the deeper meaning. At last, I think so.” He brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Otherwise, I messed up your arm.”

“Tell me your thoughts.” Wooyoung prompted softly.

San inhaled deeply, as if preparing for a test. “At the bottom right is a red chrysanthemum. Lots of meanings, but paired with the purple larkspur above it, I figured it out. They’re birth month flowers, and they both mean love. November and July. You and me. You got this tattoo for us.” A hint of a smile graced Wooyoung’s lips, and that was all the encouragement San needed to continue. “Once I figured that out, I remembered that the sunflower in the center was from the first time we met. Bottom left is a single lavender rose. Love at first sight. Curving up from that are forget-me-nots, which mean true love.”

Wooyoung was leaning forward in his seat at this point, watching San shred a paper towel with nervous fingers. “Why did you add to it? There’s an extra flower.”

San whispered his response, afraid to give the words life. “Rainlilies. They mean… I love you back.” He bit his lip in trepidation as he look over at the florist.

He was grinning. Wooyoung reached forward to tangle his fingers in San’s shirt and pulled him forward. Their lips met in a petal-soft touch, moving gently against each other. San could feel the other smiling into the kiss, his lips stretched thin, but not stopping their ministrations.

It was only the hoots and hollers of the shops workers that pulled them apart, faces flushed and ears red. “Gross! Get a room!” Hongjoong yelled.

San scoffed. “Listen, I have literally caught you and Seonghwa grinding on the tables, so I don’t want to hear anything from you!” Everyone laughed, and with fingers intertwined, for the first time in a very long time, everything felt like its roots were strong.

San was so thankful that he had walked into that little flower shop months earlier. Now, his life was in full bloom.


End file.
